Tale of the Brave
by Reese S. Quill
Summary: Before every hero, there's a story. Before Hannah the Brave, there was a little girl who loved her grandpa.


**A/N: HJ will be updated soon, I promise! This is my attempt at a more serious tone in a story than my oneshot-songfics. The tone will also probably be what I'm going to use in future HJ chapters (when he gets older, though). I'm aiming for slightly dark, but still light-hearted at times, considering who the main character is. **

**Oh, and the main character is someone I've sort of had trouble with. I don't know why, but I found her kinda annoying. To be honest, she seemed more vengeful than Masila. She tracked Kanrik down to Terror Mountain even when she was cursed and was advised to stay home. A lot of her story here is canon, if you check the Neopedia, and how dark it was already surprised me, but it didn't stop me from still being irritated with her from time to time. This is also my attempt to straighten that out and make her a more likeable character. **

**This is also to explain HATIC's ending with Masila sitting in the bar, ready to slit anyone's throat. Both HJ and BD have skipped what had happened at that 3since it's a prequel instead of a sequel. **

**Lastly, this is a birthday present! April 8 is my b-day, and I was hoping to make something more well-written than I've done yet. Tell me what you think!**

**Summery: Before every hero, there's a story. Before Hannah the Brave, there was a little girl who loved her grandpa. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Neopets. Well yeah, I do, but I own Neopets, not Neopets itself. If that makes sense. Marie, who was briefly mentioned, is Amethyst3232's character. Most of the dialogue in Hannah's final confrontation is from Hannah and the Pirate Caves Part 2 in the Neopedia. **

* * *

**Tale of the Brave**

Masila's eyes were fixed on the Usul. They were brimming with hate, although her facial expressions hid it well. To an outsider, they with see a stranger faintly amused with Hannah's story. She had a good reason. After all, this time Hannah had gone all the way from here to the Lost Desert to Terror Mountain, accompanied by a thief no less!

The thief, Kanrik, had betrayed her. But Hannah was not one to simply get mugged. She tracked him down, but before she could put him to rights, a curse weakened her. With the help of a Bori – she not only met the new species, she discovered them! Not even Roxton Colchester III could boast that! – Armin, she recovered enough to battle with the Bringer of the Night. Obviously, she emerged victorious. Yes, this was a very fascinating story.

Not to Masila, though. It was laughably inaccurate, a black and white tale that no one would have any problem telling children. The truth, though, was a horribly grim reality. Hannah's tale did not mention her, other than Kanrik mentioning that she 'betrayed' him. It almost made her laugh, although the laughter would have probably come out as insane. Hannah didn't mention all those months Masila spent planning, trying to win favor, gathering people behind Galem's back while at the same time pretending to be his utterly devoted girlfriend.

_Perhaps it would've been better if I stayed that way, _Masila thought. She hated Galem, yes, but at least she would have been able to see her sister, able to have some influence in the Guild instead of being known throughout Neopia as a traitor….

"Why so grumpy, my girl?" a voice asked. Masila started, not realizing her face deepened to a scowl. She frowned, making a mental note to keep her feelings in check. "'Tis a lovely story, is it not?"

She studied the man who had sat next to her, daring to ask the question. He was a middle-aged Yurble, with graying hair and rugged, scarred features that marked him as an experienced sailor. There was nothing truly remarkable about him, nothing that would make her pick him from a crowd. Except his eyes. They had a twinkle in them, both wisdom and mirth and peace shining beneath. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and not kill him immediately. Perhaps it was because he also reminded her of an old friend.

Or perhaps she had a feeling he could hold his own in a fight.

"Not for me," she admitted.

"Aye. There is always another side, an untold side of the tale," he said wistfully. "Yet most put it away. Choose to ignore it. It's generally more convenient to forget that their enemy has a reason, an opinion on why they thought that way." Grim, but true. "The fools. It's no better than thinking this in black and white." He smiled at her, knowing that she agreed.

Masila glanced away to Hannah again. "I hardly think _she _has a story worth telling. If she does, she exaggerates it out of proportions."

He grinned even wider. "Ah, that's where you are wrong. Yes, she spins a web of tales even bigger than life, but can you truly blame her, where she grew up?" He gestured to the rowdy men, guffawing, clapping for Hannah, urging her to continue her little tirade.

Masila shook her head, almost regrettably. "I suppose not."

"And as for her own tale," he said matter-of-factly, "That is one she never tells. One she never exaggerates, either—for in that, the truth is most precious to her."

Seeing where this was going, Masila stood up. "I apologize, but I have no use for hearing Hannah's story." She wanted to never speak of her again, to be rid of her, quickly, and was planning to do so in the dead of night when Hannah retired to her chambers. Whenever that would be. She had considered poison, but that was her specialty—Kanrik would know in an instant; a knife at the back, if she was wearing gloves, would make her much more difficult to trace. She had no time listening to sailor's tales.

But the old man gave her his knowing smile again, one she was beginning to loathe. "Darling, I think we both know that that's not the case." His gaze made her drop down to her seat, like an obedient child. The last time she felt like this was when she was being ordered around by her Aunt Morgana. She didn't like the feeling. "And it's such a good story, too," he continued. "You'll definitely like it."

"Who are you?" she finally snapped. "Why are you bothering me?"

He smiled again, almost pityingly. Slowly, he took out a pendant, an emerald with a golden Cobrall border. The sign of the Thieves' Guild. She stood up again, this time drawing her dagger. "Who sent you? Kanrik? Master Serpent?" This was impossible. They all thought her to be dead. Didn't they?

"Sit down, girl, 'fore you attract attention," he told her. She obeyed him reluctantly, but her weapon was still drawn. "As for who sent me, I can't tell you that. You might not even believe me. But let me tell you, I was the one who suggested and asked for this mission in the first place."

"You're going to kill me, then?" She smiled grimly. "Good luck trying."

"I'm not going to kill you. You've so much good to do yet."

"Good? Excuse me, but I'm done playing goody-two-shoes."

"For now," he said, chuckling merrily. "All I want for you to do, miss, is to listen to the story. You can do whatever you want as soon as it's over, whether it's killing Hannah or dancing a jig. And besides," he continued when she still seemed reluctant, "Won't it help you to learn a little bit about your enemy?"

She rolled her eyes.

Taking that as a yes, he began.

* * *

She arrived in her grandpa's doorstep when she was about eight years old, flanked with a tight-lipped lady Wocky. The Wocky hesitated, took out her handkerchief, and lightly touched the doorbell with it. Then she let the hanky fall to the ground. No use keeping it—it was probably already infected.

"Who's there?" a gruff voice called.

"Beatrice," the Wocky said.

There was a pause. Slowly, the door opened to reveal Hannah's grandfather, a crusty old man with a deep-set frown. "Hmph. So you've finally come back from all that finery and whatnot, have you, Bea?"

"Hardly," she said with scorn. "I've come to deposit my niece to you. She's Andrew's eight year old girl."

He glanced at the child, and then scratched his head. "Looks a lil' young to be his-"

"Daughter, she's his daughter," Beatrice snapped, glaring at him. She couldn't believe he'd imply Hannah would be….anything else. Then again, Krawk Island was savage country. She couldn't remember, but it was probably very common there. She could only pray that he didn't take on a slut himself.

He burst out laughing. "I'm kidding, Bea." Then he frowned. "But what do you want me to do with her?"

"I've done my duty to my brother already, as you know," she said, giving an audible sniff. "Loaning him over twenty thousand neopoints for his precious ship. Now it had sunk, and I have debts to repay soon. I can manage, of course," she glared at him as if he had suggested anything else, "But I can't very well take care of his daughter as well. The custody should fall down to you."

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. I'm no good with children, as you yourself know," he pointed out.

"Indeed. You were a horrible father." Her face betrayed no emotion as she spoke the words, but in her eyes, a pain lingered, a tale to tell of running away when she was sixteen, years of trying to make a name for herself and failing because of her father's reputation, a final confrontation that left her swearing to never set foot in his house again…but that's another story.

"So you're actually leaving the girl with me?" he said in disbelief. She nodded curtly. "Let's take a look at her then."

Hannah's long, brown hair was tied in a bun, her clothes pin-neat and perfect. She looked like a proper young lady, ready to curtsy or do any task anyone commanded her. Just like Auntie Beatrice said. She told her that if she wanted to make a good first impression, she had to look the best as she could possibly be or he might kick her out.

He seemed on the verge on kicking her out anyway, though.

_E-gad! _He was thinking. _Beatrice was expecting me to take someone like her, a 'young lady,' in? _

From his expression, it looked like the game was up. He was going to say no, he wasn't impressed with her at all. Maybe if she had chosen another ribbon? Whatever it was, Aunt Beatrice would make her come back with her to her stuffy old mansion, where she'd have to sit down and behave and be a proper lady like the other girls she'd seen her age.

It was better when Mommy and Daddy were alive.

Hannah could hear them talking about it in hushed whispers, but she had eavesdropped on her parents when there was a huge storm going on. Talking quietly right in front of her wasn't going to keep her from overhearing. They were talking about that night when the huge storm came, the biggest of the century, and Mommy and Daddy and her were all alone in their little ship. Daddy had tried to go back to the shore, Mommy even stopped hugging her to pull down the ropes, and Hannah knew, just knew, that they would've made it.

If it weren't for the pirates.

When she was little, she wanted to be a pirate. Daddy was just a boring old fisherman, and Mommy was just his wife, not doing anything at all except helping him or washing clothes or cooking. She didn't want to be like that. She wanted adventure! She wanted to be just like those pirates in her storybooks, ready to take on anything.

The pirates that came aboard weren't like that, though. They were mean and scary, and kept shouting at Daddy, "Where is it? Where is it?" But she didn't know what they meant. While they were distracted, Mommy put her on a lifeboat and put her off to sea. Hannah didn't know what was happening, but the boat managed to take her to shore. After people asked her some questions, they realized who she was and took her to her Auntie Bea. Now, Auntie Bea was taking her to her grandpa, someone she never ever met before, and she was telling him everything. He looked especially sad when Aunt Beatrice got to the part of them asking questions, but Hannah didn't think auntie noticed.

Still, it was pretty clear that he didn't want her. She could be as rude and complaining as she could possibly want, now. "Auntie," she whined, interrupting the adults. She tugged at her skirt. "It feels like it's giving me a wedgie! And it's so hot. Can't I take some of my clothes off?"

"Heavens, no!" Aunt Beatrice looked appalled, but Grandfather looked amused, like he seemed to find it very funny.

"But you put other clothes under it," she persisted. "Layers and layers and layers! Can't I just take off one layer?"

Grandfather snickered, holding his paw up to his face to stifle the sounds. Aunt Bea looked annoyed at both of them. "Really, Hannah! I thought I taught you better than this." She glowered at Grandfather. "I suppose no one can make you take her if you don't want to, then? Fine. With me, at least she'll be properly brought up."

She took hold of Hannah's hand. Before they could go, Hannah took one more shy little glance at him; and the old sailor's heart melted. Maybe she was like him after all. No doubt it was Bea who forced her to wear all this splendor. If she went with her now, though, he knew that in time, she would be just like her. Cold. Proud. And those little innocent eyes would look at him like dirt.

Did he really want that?

But did he even have the right to take her in?

She would be more well-cared for with Bea, he knew. Beatrice was very wealthy, due to her convenient marriage, and the 'debts' she spoke of were probably just an excuse to try and get rid of Hannah. But Bea would take her in if he wouldn't, he knew. He knew in time, Hannah would be a lovely young lady, with various suitors waging war for her hand. He knew he could be a shining star in some court or another, raised as Bea's niece.

But he also knew that a free spirit should never be trapped. He knew that out of all his children, Andrew, or Andy, was the most like him, and he would never have wanted his daughter ending up like his sister. But he could've lived with it, if that was what Hannah wanted for herself. Her complaints about her petticoats, though, made that pretty doubtful.

There was only one choice he could make.

"Fine, Bea," he snapped. "I'll take her in."

Hannah's mouth curved into an O, and for a moment he thought he had made a mistake. Then her eyes lit up, happily. Beatrice turned with a scowl on her face. She was probably picturing grooming Hannah to be some sort of doll, and now, when she had started to even like her fantasies, they were ruined. "Why the sudden change of mind?"

"Figured it'd be interesting to raise Hannah with barbarians," he said coolly. Bea huffed and dropped her niece's arm without another word. This time, this time, she swore she was never going to come back again.

Hannah and her grandfather were left alone. "So."

"So," she repeated obediently. "Grandfather."

"You can call me Grandpa, if you want," he said gruffly.

She titled her head. "Why?"

"It's…it's another way to call me grandfather. The way most people say it here."

"Why?"

"It's more informal."

"What's informal?"

"More familiar. A nicer way."

"Oh. Why?"

"Because it's shorter." He was half-afraid she was going to ask 'why' again, but she seemed satisfied with the answer. They stood there awhile, awkwardly. "Well, it's nearly time for dinner. Mind if you set the tables?"

He knew she had only spend around a month with Bea, but that didn't mean her aunt didn't make her believe chore's were 'servant's work,' yet. If that was the case, then he needed to make her knock it off right now. It'd only let the children make fun of her, and if she was going to stay here she might as well help running the boarding house.

On the contrary, she grabbed the plates from the table with zeal. He was pleased—until she began balancing them on her head. "Wait, what are you-?"

"Don't worry, Grandpa," she said sweetly. "Mommy taught me this." To his horror, she began throwing the plates around. He was just about to change his mind about her living with him when he realized all the plates landed in place. "See?"

"I see," he said, nodding reluctantly. He grinned slightly. "What can you do with cups?"

* * *

The Golden Dubloonwas always hospitable, a popular place for sailors or tourists to go with their families. The old man running it was well-respected, and was good for talks about the 'good old days' and all the other stuff. He was good with children, too, no matter what he said. Kids always begged him to tell tales of when he was young and ran away as a cabin boy and worked his way up, finally owning the ship in the end.

Among them were two boys, one an Usul and one a Kyrii. There were rarely any days when they weren't in the crowd, and always clamored for the best seats. Although there were no kids besides them this time, oday was no different. "Tell about the time you climbed the mast in the storm to save a crew member-" The Usul began.

"Or when you fell off the mizzenmast and was dropped into sea!' cried the Kyrii.

He happily supplied the stories; but he also couldn't help but notice another child listening and fascination. He'd have invited Hannah to sit with him, of course, but he didn't think that she'd be interested. Anyway, she was doing such a good job with the customers, politely smiling at them, cleaning the tables up and serving them. They were all charmed by the 'little barmaid' and gave her a lot of tips. If there was one thing he needn't worry about, it's how to provide for her. The little girl was making her own fortune already.

Still, that didn't stop him from calling out to her. "Hey, Hannah! How about taking a break over here?" She smiled eagerly and dropped her plates on the table, and then sat on the rug quietly. He had an inkling she wasn't a quiet child by nature—Beatrice more likely than not beat it out of her in the month she stayed.

The Usul didn't like the story being interrupted. "Come on, tell me when you went on the starboard—left side of the ship, right? And sailed towards the sun to catch the-"

"That's silly!" Hannah interrupted. "Starboard is on the _right _side of the ship. And why would he sail towards the sun? It'll only blind him." The boys were staring at her, tongue-tied. "What? Never talked to a girl before?"

"Never had a girl talk to _us_, more like," said the Kyrii good-naturedly.

"Why?" she asked. Her grandpa nearly groaned.

"Because of the cooties," said the Usul immediately. The reply was answered with a hoot of laughter, both from Hannah and his friend. "What?"

"Cooties aren't real, Garin," his friend snickered.

"Don't laugh at me, then!" he snapped. "You're the one who told me about them."

"I didn't know you'd actually fall for it!"

Garin turned to Hannah, scowling. "And how do you know so much about sailing, Miss Prissy?"

"My parents are sailors," she said proudly. Then her face fell. "I mean, were."

"What happened to them?" Garin asked, eager for any information to tease her with.

"They died," she said flatly.

Abruptly, there was silence between the three children. "Oh."

"Garin!" a Poogle with long, golden hair scolded. "Don't ask such callous questions."

"Sorry, Ma," he called back. "I won't ask any more stuff that are ca-ca-call-lee-ous."

"Callous, Garin, Callous."

"Oh, go eat a Koi," he muttered. Hannah giggled. He brightened up, quickly getting over his mistake. "I'm Garin," he said, introducing himself again. "And this is Jacques." The Kyrii gave her a mock bow. "We're seven years old, though Jacques is a little younger than me."

"His ma says I'm more mature," Jacques added. "Whatever that means."

Hannah sensed this wasn't a time to say 'I'm pleased to meet you,' whatever Aunt Beatrice said about manners. Instead, she gave them her toothiest smile. "I'm Hannah. I'm living with Grandfather—I mean, Grandpa, now," she said, pointing to him.

"Cool! That means you're gonna stay forever?" Garin asked.

"Guess so," Hannah replied.

"Great! We could use another team member."

"I thought you didn't play with girls," Hannah's Grandpa teased.

Garin shrugged, and then frowned. "How old are you?"

"Eight years old," said Hannah.

Garin inwardly groaned. She was older than him, which meant that she got to choose what games they were going to play. That'd probably mean she'd want to do dress-up, or princesses, or-

"How about we play Treasure Hunt?" she suggested.

Garin's and Jacques's eyes lit up. They loved that game. The only one they liked better was…"How about Pirates?" It was worth a shot. That's what they wanted to be when they grew up. If the girl liked Treasure Hunt, maybe she'd like Pirates, too.

But her face suddenly darkened. "No!"

"Hannah, be nicer," said her grandpa mildly. But he couldn't really blame her. "Sorry, boys. Hannah lost her parents to a gang of pirates a month earlier," he explained to their confused faces.

"We don't want to be like those pirates," Jacques said urgently. "They're mean. We just want the treasure."

"Uh-huh," Garin agreed, but he let the Pirate game drop. He was seven, but he knew that bad experiences can spoil games forever, even games as fun as Pirates. He definitely never wanted to play 'Hang-on-the-Cliff' again, after that real, almost-fatal accident. Treasure Hunters would do. "Let's play!"

* * *

Getting her into bed was easier than he thought. She was all tuckered out from her games with Garin and Jacques, half of them they both said she couldn't do because she was a girl. She had proven them wrong. Badly. At the end of the night, they were sporting more bruises than they had when they came in—and probably even more wounded was their boyish pride. But that didn't matter. They liked her a lot, and promised to come back soon.

Her room was at the top of the house. Her father's room, as only fitting. It still had model ships and toy fish from Andy's childhood days, and she had loved it. Probably never got even a doll before, due to her parent's meager allowance. She gave him a hug goodnight, thanking him profusely for taking her in. She did not want to go back to Aunt Bea's.

But she needn't have thanked him. He owed her a lot, anyway.

Once he was sure she was sleeping – taking one more glance at her moonlit face – he clambered to the basement. It was pitch black, but his rule number one is to always carry flint and steel. Never knew when a good fire might be handy, and he quickly lit a candle, navigating his way around the sea of messes. That's when he saw it. The chest.

The stupid, stupid chest he should've gotten rid of years ago. The one Andy blew up for, the reason that Hannah didn't have parents anymore. He opened it up slowly. The antique golden coins would've fetched a good sum alone, but the real show was what lay in the middle. The jewel was as smooth as snowflakes, a deeper green than an emerald. When he held it, it vibrated, like it itself had a heart. The Mermaid's Tear.

"How many men have lost you?" he asked the jewel rhetorically. He smiled sadly. "Or better yet, how many men have lost their lives looking for you?"

It made sense that Bloodhook would think he gave the precious gem to his favorite and most reliable son. But the task of keeping it safe he wouldn't even trust his child. So when the pirates came for them, Andy had nothing to give and everything to lose. His life. His ship. His wife. His daughter. Andrew had lost all save one, and right then and there Hannah's grandpa swore his father would not lose the last. Even if it meant giving up the jewel.

Even if it meant putting the whole of Neopia in jeopardy.

He ran his fingers through his graying hair, praying it wouldn't come to that, that he'd actually have to decide. He'd already made his choice. He sighed, closing the lid. One day, he'd give the gem to someone else to keep safe. But right then, it was his responsibility.

* * *

She was about ten years old when he decided to make his first sea trip without her. Of course, she begged to come with him, as well as every single child in the village. Everyone wanted an adventure. But he had already made plans with Jacques's mother in letting her staying with him. He figured that Hannah would do better there than Garin's house. At least Jacques didn't have a crush on her.

She was crying when he left. He knew that it wasn't entirely that she would miss him (though it seemed like a big part anyway), or because she was sulking because she didn't get her way. Though she would never admit it, she was scared that he'd never come back. He gave her many reassurances, saying that he was an experienced sailor, but she would have none of it. In the end, both were angry when he left.

He was in a foul mood all throughout the journey. If she would've smiled at him, just once, before he departed, maybe he would've felt better in all this. Sighing, he quickly did his job, carrying merchant's goods from shore to shore. It took him about three months to be done, and when he returned he was _still _mad.

That was until she ran to him. She slammed to him and hugged him tight, saying that she was very, very sorry and that she knew it was his job and that she hoped that he was okay. Of course, he melted and never even gave her a telling-off. She had him wrapped around her little finger, though she never took advantage of it.

He had spent the rest of the night telling her stories. Finally, she managed to ask a hopeful question. "D'you think that I'll be able to go on adventures like you?"

"Hannah," he said, giving her a kiss on the forehead, "Mine will pale next to yours."

* * *

She was sixteen when he died. It came as a shock to her—but then again, perhaps not. Whenever he had gone out to sea, she always had that foreboding thought that he would never come back. Only this time, she was right. The green Skeith in a business suit pitied her, and suggested that she sell the boarding house. She had lashed out then, still full of grief. But eventually, she did what he said.

The boarding house was sold to a red Ruki. He was ruthless, greedy for costumers, but even he wasn't heartless enough to cast out the girl who had been living there half her life. Instead, he gave her a job as a barmaid, and she worked for her room and board. It was lucky that he gave it to her. Funds were running low. There was no more merry old man to tell stories and laugh with them, and a new, fancier bed and breakfast was opened near the docks. A few old friends visited there occasionally, for old time's sake, but for the most part, the boarding house was running out of business.

Of course, Hannah was blamed. She had rolled her eyes and laughed at him, but at times what he said were truly hurtful. That her grandpa never wanted her. That her parents faked their deaths to get rid of one mouth to feed. But Hannah was the only one who could be yelled at like that without deciding to quit. She couldn't. This was her home, and she had to stay there.

Then came the letter from Aunt Beatrice. And that changed everything.

"Oi, Hannah!"

"What is it now?" the girl asked tiredly. "Did someone vomit on the floor again, or are you just coming here complaining?" As usual.

He scowled and slapped down a few letters in front of her. "From an aunt of yers. Addressed to your grandfather months ago. Then there's his will. I expect you to get back to work once you've finished," he added spitefully, but Hannah was already engrossed with the contents to even listen or care.

_Father, _

_I have changed my mind. Keep the jewel. You may reproach me for taking back what I said, but I see you have not been completely honest with me either. I would have never accepted acquiring the gem if I had known it had been the cause of Andrew's and his wife's death. And as you know, it could draw…unwanted relations as well. _

_I beg you to keep the jewel safe in your keeping. You managed it this long, haven't you? Perhaps Hannah can take over with your task. _

_Regards,_

_Beatrice Knivert_

Hannah's mouth curved to an O, like it did such a long time ago. What gem? 'The cause of Andrew's death?' Her father? How long and Grandpa been keeping this from her? Forcing herself to put the letter down, she turned to Grandpa's will. But that didn't make any sense, either. Shouldn't the will have been with the Green Skeith from the bank? He had informed her that her Grandpa's will was lost, but as his solicitor he knew that the property of the boarding house was supposed to be hers.

Or used to be mine, she thought glumly.

_I, Edward Thatch, of sound mind and body…._

Blah, blah, blah. Her grandpa never sounded like this when he was alive. She skipped the boring part.

_My boarding house, my possessions, my money, and specified book goes to Hannah Thatch, my granddaughter. I hope they serve her well._

Book? Hannah's grandpa was never into reading. He always said that the best adventures come when you're in them, not when you're reading them. It was a miracle she could still read at all. He never specified anything to her…unless….unless….

Hannah looked up at the mantelpiece, which still held a photo of Grandpa and Grandma (a pretty Aisha with a cheerful smile). It'd been there since the boarding house opened, and the people who still come insist that the Ruki owner should never take it off. Once, when she was little, she thought she saw Grandpa opening it. Maybe the book was in there.

But she wasn't allowed in the dining room after hours. If she wanted the book, she needed to get it now. She cast a furtive glance around. The Ruki owner was nowhere in sight. She edged closer and closer to the fireplace until she was positively burning. Then, quickly, she raced up. Had she been anyone else, she would have undoubtedly slipped and would've been sent to the hospital.

Luckily, she had practice clambering up the rigging.

Carefully, she touched the picture. No one had noticed her yet, but it wouldn't be for long before they see her and ask what in Neopia she was doing. She spared only a moment to glimpse her Grandpa. Then she clutched the frame and pushed.

It was harder than she thought. Years of stillness had done it's work, and now it barely opened. Still, she pushed harder and harder, almost grunting. There was no chance of a stealth mission now. People were already crying out in alarm. "Oi!" yelled the Ruki owner. "What the hell are you doing, Hannah?"

She ignored him.

Groaning, she pushed for all she was worth. It swung open reluctantly. Despite the protests the crowd under her called out, her hands fumbled desperately around the space, trying to find a book. She felt nothing but a piece of paper. Disappointment flooded through her, but she made sure it didn't show. Especially when she got down to face an angry mob.

"What were you doing, you silly girl?" the Ruki owner shouted.

"You could've gotten yourself killed!"

"What would your grandpa have said?"

"What would her parents have said?"

She stared at them patiently until they had worn down, and then retreated to her room, sitting on her bed. The piece of paper was dusty and brittle, and the words written down were barely readable. But they _were _readable. For a moment, she was scared what she might find out. Was her grandpa hiding something? If he was, maybe he did so for a good reason. Maybe he didn't want her to read it.

She flicked it into the fire.

And then she realized what she had done.

"Sweet Fyora! No!" she shrieked, grabbing the piece of paper. Her hands were in the fire, and it felt like a thousand petpetpets were stinging it, but she got the letter safely out. But her hands were badly scorched, and the paper was charred. She cursed herself for her stupidity.

* * *

Masila's laughter was musical, uncontrollable, her voice ringing up and down. A few men even paused their hand wrestling game to smile hopefully at her, but she didn't even notice them—she simply could not stop giggling. She forced herself to keep her emotionless persona; but if there were any emotion that she could not control, it was happiness.

She never had the cause to control it before.

Finally, it sputtered out, though she still had to work to keep a straight face. "Ahem. Excuse me."

"You control your voice too often, my girl," he noted. "You control _yourself, _your feelings, too much."

"Why would you say that?" she said suspiciously.

"Because when you laugh, they go on free reign." He smiled coyly at her. "Believe it or not, your voice sounds a lot more powerful."

"Please."

"Ever_ tried _giving them free reign?"

"That is not advisable," she said, with an air of experience.

"Ah, maybe not completely, but-"

"Can we move on, please?" she pressed.

"So you want to hear about her more, do ya?" he said, smirking. "I told you you'd like it?" She rolled her eyes. But she couldn't help it—she did like this story. Plus, she wanted to find out what made Hannah the Brave tick. Perhaps it could be something used against her. Something that could bring her down. "All right, then. On with the story."

* * *

Hannah had read the letter.

_Dear Hannah, _

_If you are reading this, I'm either in trouble or dead and gone. Thus, the responsibility of keeping a jewel, which was entrusted to my keeping, safe, as well as my most precious treasure. This jewel you will find in a location specified in a book, which your Aunt Beatrice has. Now, I know she's extremely stuffy, but you've got to get the book from her. Steal it if you must. But get it. _

_After that, retrieve the jewel. Trust me, no one in Neopia will be safe if you don't. This jewel has magical properties, and if it's in the wrong hands who knows what could be done with it. Now, I know you might not believe this, but this is the task I've groomed you for ever since you came to me. Find and protect the jewel and the treasure. All those stories, those lessons, were focused on that task. _

_I know you won't let me down. _

_Find the jewel in the location. As for the treasure, well, you'll figure it out too. _

_Love,_

_Grandpa_

Hannah had read the letter.

She just hadn't decided what to do about it yet.

* * *

She wasn't really an early riser, despite the encouraging of her grandpa (not to mention Garin and Jacques, who _loved _using buckets of water to wake her up). But that day, when she rose before the sun did, the answer struck her. But it scared her out of her wits.

She had to leave.

She had to go on this crazy mission to see what Grandpa wanted her to do. There was no other solution. Oh, she knew she could just ignore it and live her life as a barmaid. But the only reason she decided to do so in the first place was because that was what she thought Grandpa wanted. To stay and keep the boarding house. Now a piece of paper is telling her otherwise, and she wanted to see what other plans he had in store for her.

But she didn't want to believe those plans were all he ever raised her for.

She thought he loved her. Maybe entrusting this jewel would prove it? A long shot, but worth a try. She began packing, quickly. There wasn't that much stuff to take with her. A few clothes, neopoints, a scrapbook (the one kind of book her grandpa approved of), a knife, and a watertight box that carried flint and steel. She could never forget the last item. Grandpa drilled it in her head again and again—_Always carry flint and steel. Never know when a good fire might come in handy. _

A rapping in the door made her jump. "Wake up! We've got customers. Get down here, pronto."

Customers? Hannah shook her head with disbelief. She didn't remember the time they had so many customers it was necessary for her to come down earlier than usual. Nevertheless, she left her bag on her bed and hurried downstairs. Sure enough, the place was as full as when Grandpa had been alive, and she was quickly busy cooking and serving, not even noticing whom she was cooking and serving for. By this time tomorrow, she wouldn't even be here.

She'd go to Aunt Bea's first. That was what her letter instructed, and that's were her safe grounds were. When her grandpa died, Aunt Beatrice had written, asking if she wanted to stay with her. Hannah had declined, remembering the horrifying month she spent curtsying, eating daintily, wearing clothes that were too tight for her, and basically acting like rich lady. She shuddered and pity for those who actually had to endure it for real. And to think Aunt Bea even wanted it.

Then she would look into the book. Despite what the letter said, she wasn't completely willing to leave her secure lifestyle. Oh, sure, she'd love adventure, but she never actually had one before, and she didn't think the scrapes she got into with the boys counted. Grandpa never made good on his promise on taking her with him to sea. He had sworn that she would accompany him on her eighteenth birthday. Now, it would never be possible.

Also….she couldn't deny that she was hoping to find more family. Not someone like Aunt Bea, who'd judge her every move. Not even someone like Grandpa, who someone had to force to take her in before he even got remotely fond of her. If she was really, really honest with herself, she was hoping her parents were still alive. Again, a long shot. She was placed on a lifeboat in the wild sea, and she had an inkling that her parents never would've done that if they thought they were going to survive.

But if they did survive…maybe they couldn't get her because it wouldn't be safe. It all rested on what that stupid book held, and what Aunt Bea had to says about her Grandpa. There was no way she would let her go without questioning. Apparently, her stuffy aunt knew a lot more than she let on.

She was so absorbed in her mental planning that the red Ruki had to shout to get her attention. "Oi! Hannah!" She was still half-dreaming. "HANNAH!"

"Oh! Uh, yeah?" she said turning to face him. As she did so, the level of noise in the boarding house dropped. The Ruki owner had unknowingly made a scene, and now he had to press through it, whether he liked it or not. At least she had the crowd waiting to help.

"What the blazes is this?" he demanded, holding out her bag. "You're leaving?"

"Well, you're always threatening to fire me anyway," she said defensively, knowing what the people might think of her now. After holding out for so long, refusing to ever leave her grandpa's boarding house, she was giving in?

The Ruki snorted. "Is that all the reason?" She couldn't lie. It had been obvious from an early age that telling even the slightest fib would make her voice go high and squeaky—and the only advantage of this was that she could tell who was lying to her, no matter how convincing to other people they may seem. But now she didn't know how the latter talent could help her, and she dearly wished that she could tell one little white lie. "No, don't answer that. It's this letter, isn't it? The letter you got from the mantelpiece last night." He held it up.

The little sneak! He was in her room!

To her horror, he began reading it out loud. Desperately, she tried to grab it—she did _not _need for the whole island to know she was heading off to a wild goose chase, and to chastise her for considering on going. She had already made up her mind, and no amount of yelling from the Ruki owner would persuade her otherwise, but from Grandpa's friends who knew her her whole life, she knew she would crumble with their looks of disappointment. But it was too late.

"Love, Grandpa," he finished in his mocking voice. "Did you really think I'd let you leave, Hannah?"

"Let me?" she shrieked. "Let me? You can't keep me here. I'm not an item you can lock up, you know."

"You walk out that door, and you're never going to come back." He meant it, she could tell. And it frightened her. "I do have that right, girl, and you know it."

A wave of memories flashed through her. The first time she cut her knee, and Grandpa was there to fix it up. The time he taught her how to make 'sea bread.' The time she scared him by juggling cups and glasses around. The boarding house was more than just a boarding house to her. It was her home, from the top of the house that was her room to the mysterious basement that she never under any circumstances went in. Could she really bear to leave it?

Yes. It was time to stop letting others tell her what to do.

"Then I guess you better find a new barmaid," she said promptly, gathering her bag.

The Ruki's smug smile vanished. "Now wait just a second-"

"Good-bye," she told him. With that, she opened the door and strode out.

She didn't look back.

* * *

Hannah cursed as she looked through her belongings. For months she had suspected the Ruki sneaking around her rooms to get her money, and now it was proven true. She should've known the moment he had held up her bag! Why else would he have looked around the attic for? Now she was paying the price. She didn't have enough neopoints to go to the next village, much less Neopia Central. She couldn't go back to the boarding house for fear of humiliation, and she would not beg. She was at a stalemate, and she didn't know what to do.

She did not consider stealing.

She was just about to break down – even she had her limits – when a voice asked her, "So, ya lookin' for a good ship to sail?"

She whirled around. "Garin?"

"Hannah? Is that you?" He squinted at her. "You look so young. It's been ages, my dearest friend."

"Cut out it," she said, laughing. She didn't need to look to know that Jacques was just behind him. "Come here, you rascals."

"Hey!" They protested as she embraced them, but they eventually gave into it. It was clear that they were as pleased to see her as she was of them.

Jacques made a face. "Now I have cooties all over me!" They all snickered at that.

"Seriously, now," said Garin, forcing himself to stop. "You headin' off to see Aunt Bea and look for treasure?"

"Yes." She was bewildered. "How did you know? Do rumors travel that fast?"

"Hannah, we were _there_," Jacques said exasperatedly. "All those customers were our crew members."

Her eyes widened. "Then this means…?"

"Yes," said Garin proudly. "We are officially full-fledged pirates—and not even sixteen!" He smiled smugly.

They never did let go of their childhood dream, even with Hannah's discouraging. For awhile, Hannah hoped that Garin's mother proved correct: That Jacques's sense, though it sometimes led them to as many adventures as out of them, would keep them out of trouble. But it was probably too much to hope for. Now they were making a living illegally. Still, looking at their hopeful faces, Hannah knew they wanted her approval. Especially Garin. So all she could say was, "I bet the Ruki owner would love that, knowing that criminals were in his boarding house."

"It's your boarding house, Hannah," said Jacques indignantly, "No matter what that greedy old git squawks."

"Thanks. Which ship is yours?" They both pointed to a sleek, new ship, admittedly smaller than the others but still big in its own right. Its said was a deep black with a skull design. It possibly screamed 'Pirates!' so she had no idea how the dock master would ever approve of such a ship there. Unless bribing was involved. "I've gotta admit, boys, you did better than I expected."

"Of course," said Garin slyly, "It could do with the fact that Jacques has Masila's favor…"

* * *

"They mentioned _me_?" Masila cried. "How could they be so stupid? Thieves should never mention their names, let alone other people's!"

"They're young," said the old man, waving the matter off.

"Still, I would have at least thought Jacques was smarter than that."

The old man smirked.

* * *

"Garin, you can't just name thieves like that!" Jacques snapped.

He looked confused. "But Hannah already knows us."

"Not our names. Masila! We can't just go around, talking about her."

"I thought she was pretty famous already," he protested.

"In our circles, maybe, but not to the rest of Neopia! What would she say if she was here?"

* * *

"There," he said. "Pacified?"

Masila rolled her eyes, dearly wishing she had kept her mouth shut. But she had to admit, she was glad that she wasn't all wrong when she thought that Jacques had talent.

* * *

"Who's Masila?" Hannah asked, frowning.

Jacques glared at Garin, but his friend just shrugged. "Might as well be out with it. We know that we can trust Hannah, and she'll keep nagging us if we don't tell her."

"Darn straight I will," Hannah promised.

Jacques sighed exasperatedly. "She's the unofficial queen of the Thieves' Guild, basically the leader's girlfriend."

"Idiot that he is," said Garin conversationally, "I quite like her."

"Smart. Pretty. Willing to take an interest on us rather than the royal courtiers." Jacques said the last two words in a mocking voice.

"Royal courtiers? There's thief royalty?" Hannah gaped at them.

"Believe me," said Garin, "That was our reaction, too. The leader is basically the all-powerful king, and we do as he commands." Then his tone turned gleeful. "But he does as she commands, doing everything to please her. She liked talking to us about seafaring, and said maybe one day she'd come with us to sail. Then I replied for that, we'd need a ship. So she asked the Ga-I mean, the guild leader, and the next day we were presented with that beauty over there." He grinned happily at his ship.

"We still haven't decided what to name it, though," Jacques said, frowning. "We thought maybe we should name it after Masila, but she absolutely refused, saying that she'd take it back before she'd let us name it after her. And our guild leader hates it whenever she takes an interest to other people, even if it's purely innocent." There was a note of irritation and sympathy in his voice.

"Poor lady," Garin agreed. "She's lonely most of the time."

For an instant, Hannah wondered what it'd be like, not being taken care of by a grandpa who adored her, not even by strict aunt who had her best interests at heart, but by some guy who wouldn't let her set eyes on anyone but him. She shuddered, suddenly sorry for this Masila. "Does she seriously like him, with him treating her like that?"

The question was supposed to rhetorical. It was possible, of course—Hannah knew a few battered fishermen's wives who gladly stayed with their husband, no matter how Hannah herself thought it was disgusting. But Jacques and Garin glanced at each other, and Hannah suspected that maybe the Masila girl had better sense than she first suspected. "Well-" Garin began.

Jacques ribbed Garin. "Shut up! We've said too much already."

"What?" Hannah asked, curious.

"Jacques is right," Garin admitted. "Saying any more would just be plain gossiping. But we…well, not just us, but…there's a chance that Masila likes someone else other than our guild leader."

"And that she's trying to gather support for _him _to be the _new_ guild leader," Jacques couldn't help but add.

Hannah's eyes were as big as saucers. "Whoa. Girl got some guts. I'll be interested to see how that turns out."

"We'll keep you posted," Jacques promised reluctantly, "But I prefer we don't meddle with any of this ourselves. Way too dangerous, and way too easy to pick the losing side."

"But hey, we're talking about you, now," said Garin. "You want to go to your Aunt Bea's, right?"

"Yes," Hannah started. "But-"

"Then we're willing to take you, free of charge," he supplemented. "We know that that slimy git of a Ruki stole your neopoints. We, of course, gave him a piece of our minds."

"These are yours, by the way," Jacques added, handing her a pouch.

She grinned at the thought of what they did to get him to surrender the coins. "Thanks, guys. But why are you doing this?"

"Because you're our friend," Garin said. "Because we need experience more than anything, even treasure."

"And because Garin has a crush on you," Jacques added.

"Jacques!" Garin shoved him, but he grinned sheepishly. "All right, Hannah. Guys?" Their crew was lined up behind them. Hannah hadn't noticed, and she blinked rapidly. "Time to set sail!"

* * *

It had been three weeks since she had set sail. Hannah had loved proving wrong the men in Garin's crew that girls were as strong as boys by many arm wrestling competitions. They had all lost. Badly. She had been convinced to cook for them after tasting just one of their meals, and though her food wasn't much better than theirs, it was at least edible. With the enclosed space and her unofficial duties, she didn't have much time to herself, and that's just the way she liked it.

But that night, Jacques had announced that they were likely to be sailing to Neopia Central the next day. There was must rejoicing and that, but Hannah couldn't bring herself to be as happy as the rest of them. She was just too nervous, and it showed in her nightmares. She had woken in cold sweat, sure she was going to drown and the pirates had gotten her after all. Highly ironic, since she was in a pirate ship.

She left her bed to go up the docks, her long hair streaming by the wind. "Couldn't sleep?" Garin's voice asked her. He was the one navigating while Jacques got his break. She shook her head. "I guess I can't blame you. But what are you so scared of, anyway?"

"Lots of things," she admitted. "What if Grandpa never loved me at all? He just raised me to take care of this stupid jewel and his treasure."

"Nah," Garin said. "He adored you. So much in fact that I was even kinda jealous for a bit." Hannah smiled. "But there's something more than that, isn't there? Come on, tell me."

"What if I have family other than him?" she blurted out.

Garin stared at her. Then he said slowly, "You mean, if your parents lived?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know. I'm not even sure I want them to live now, since it would've meant they practically abandoned me for eight years." She turned away. "What if I had someone else other than Aunt Bea? You don't know how lucky you are, having two parents who love you a lot."

"Please. They nag at me so much." But his tone was light-hearted. He knew that they still loved him, even when he turned to a life of crime, and he took every chance he could to visit. "You have parents, too. They're just not around here any more."

"I guess," she admitted reluctantly.

Garin knew that he was fighting a losing battle if he thought he could dissuade Hannah of this hope. Even the greatest ship sometimes had to submit to the whims of the sea. So he said, "Maybe you're right." There was a long, long pause, and both of them were just left to their thoughts, wondering what would happen.

"But you know, Hannah," he said finally, "Even if you don't have any family other than Aunt Beatrice, you'll always have Jacques and me."

She smiled at that. "Yeah. You'll always be my brothers."

"Just brothers?" said Garin, disappointed.

"Just brothers," Hannah said firmly. "Don't worry, Garin. I'm sure you'll find _someone _who'd like you as much you like her."

"Yeah, probably at the bottom of the sea," he grumbled, but gave her a small smile, thinking when he once saw a girl so pretty he didn't believe even for one moment that she had cooties. But then she had dived down to the ocean, he was clinging to a cliff, and later Jacques and he had thought it a hallucination. He shrugged. It was silly, the crush he had on Hannah, and to be honest he wasn't really that put down by it. After all, a lot of other girls would love to take her place.

And no matter what, she would always be his sister.

* * *

"Would you like some more sugar, Hannah?" Aunt Beatrice asked in a polite tone.

"No thank you," said Hannah softly. Although it had been years since she had been required to remember proper protocol, she was fairly competent at it. However, she couldn't bear for Jacques and Garin to see her like that (most likely the whole crew would have been teasing her until she exploded). So she was alone when she met with her aunt.

"Perhaps some milk-"

"Aunt Beatrice, no offense, but I think we should head straight to the point."

The older woman set down her cup. "All right. This is about your grandfather, isn't it?"

"Partly, yes," Hannah admitted. "But also this." She held out her piece of paper and Aunt Bea's letter to her grandpa.

Aunt Bea regarded it with cold eyes. "Ah. That."

"What jewel were you talking about?" Hannah urged. "Please, I need to know. And what treasure? I never-"

"Hannah!" she snapped, holding her hand out. Hannah instantly silenced. "I have no wish to speak of this. However, if you insist-" Hannah nodded vigorously –"Then I shall satisfy your curiosity. But I warn you, you will not like the answers. Of that I am certain. Are you quite sure you want to know about this?"

Hannah's face turned unreadable.

It was annoying to her aunt, but inevitable. At the beginning, when she had first taken her in, Hannah had been an open book. She still was, if she was trying to lie about something. But their distance have given her an advantage to seem blank at times, although Beatrice knew there were about a hundred things going on in her head. She couldn't even order her to tell what she was thinking. She didn't know that she wanted to hear, still half-hoping that Hannah would say no, that she didn't want to hear after all. Mercy, Beatrice knew that she herself had hated the knowledge.

But Hannah was stubborn, and after a small silence she nodded, sure that learning what happened was what she wanted. Beatrice sighed. "This starts at the beginning, Hannah—the very beginning." Hannah looked puzzled, but she remained silent. "Your grandfather had three children-"

"Three?" Hannah gawped.

"Three," Beatrice confirmed. She wasn't really annoyed that Hannah was shocked. It was a secret well-kept. "Andrew, me, and Cadby." "Andrew, me, and Cadby." She all but spat out the last name. "I did well for myself, refusing to be hindered by my roots. I was not to be shamed like that. I married a wealthy husband, and though he did not live long, his wealth brought me many desirable things." Aunt Beatrice gestured around her. "Andrew, the eldest…well, you know what happened to him. Married a fisherman's daughter and became a fisherman himself. Not that it's not respectable, of course, it's just…lower than what he could have gotten."

Hannah shrugged. "And Uncle Cadby?"

"Don't call him that," Beatrice warned. "You will hate his name in the end."

"All right," Hannah said, startled.

"He became a pirate," she said solemnly. "One of the most feared pirates for miles around. Your grandfather, at first, was proud of him."

"Proud?" Hannah stared. Her grandpa was fun-loving, and he never looked down on people who had jobs some would be ashamed of, but even he didn't like pirates much. Briefly, she wondered what he would've made of Garin and Jacques. But this was before her father's death.

"Of course. Good heavens, child, you mean to tell me you still haven't found out who your grandfather actually was? No, I see from your expression that you didn't. Well. He was once a pirate, too." Hannah's jaw dropped. "Yes, girl, that was my reaction. But at least he wasn't an unnatural person."

"Cadby was unnatural? How?"

"Patience," Beatrice snapped. "Now, from your grandfather's travels, he acquired a special jewel, one that he prized above all others—the Mermaid's Tear. Not only was it worth millions, it had considerable magic properties. One in particular."

"Like?"

"Like bringing back the dead," said Beatrice flatly.

A long, long silence followed this outburst. Bringing back the dead? That was even beyond Queen Fyora's power! Hannah's mind drew in countless possibilities, none of them good. Eliv Tade? The Betrayer? Lord Kass? Them, among countless others, being brought back to life to do even more harm in Neopia. With just the right person leading them, the villains would rule.

And yet…there were other good possibilities that interested her, too. What if it could bring back her parents? What if it could bring back Grandpa? She wasn't sure that she would be able to resist the temptation not to use it, if it was the jewel that he wrote of. She so, so wanted to hear him tell a story again, to cuddle her close and tell her than she was the most important lady in the universe to him. She could even almost picture it. Focus, Hannah, she told herself. There would be plenty of time to for those thoughts later. Right now, she had to focus on learning as much as she could.

"Your grandfather had showed it to all of us, more and more as we got older, and said one day he would appoint a loyal guardian, one loyal as him, to guard and never use it. The Mermaid's Tear became quite an obsession for Cadby, as he believed your grandfather to favour Andrew than any of us. He was determined that he would be the one to get it—but as the years went on, your grandfather didn't name any one of us as the guardian. As our paths grew further from one another, I believed, as did Cadby, that the jewel went to Andrew." Her voice turned grave as she said this. She paused, waiting for Hannah to let the information sink in.

Hannah was not a stupid girl. She would figure what it meant.

And she did, and saw the scenario too clearly. Her uncle thought her father had the gem. So one night, when the storm was too fierce for any ship to get away, Cadby paid a little visit. When his brother denied possessing the gem, Cadby flew into a rage—but before he could start the massacre, her father and mother slipped her into a lifeboat. She closed her eyes. She found family, all right. An uncle who killed her parents. Great.

"And?" she pressed, but she wasn't as sure as she was before that she wanted to hear the story. Tears were nearly leaking out of her eyes.

Satisfied that Hannah had already realized what she meant, Aunt Beatrice went ahead. "Your grandfather was grief-stricken, and you know he took you in. I found out later that he never gave the Tear to anyone—he was still deciding who he should give it to. Later, when you were around ten, I think, Cadby was successful in stealing the Tear from him. He left for three months to get it back. And in a way, he succeeded. Cadby had been pushed off board." Her eyes turned sad for a moment. "But with the Tear still in his possession. It is my belief that he managed to activate it before he died. When he was resurrected an hour later – it requires that amount of time – the jewel was gone. Your grandfather was not aware that Cadby lived; I only found out the story later."

"How did you find out?"

She looked uncomfortable. "I interrogated certain people, including a few crew members of your grandfather. I….offered them money." Hannah blinked. Her aunt bribed them! Perhaps they weren't so different after all. "Horrible things were said about Cadby and his crew. When it was believed he was dead, his crew members took all the money, but just in case he had lived, they buried his treasure somewhere."

"Was the jewel among them?"

"Shush!"

Hannah shut up.

"No, the jewel was among them. The location they buried it was purely coincidental, though I'll get to that later. When Cadby realized what his crew members had done, he was furious. He killed them all."

"Sweet Fyora," Hannah breathed.

"The jewel is set to go to default location if it ever got lost at sea; and coincidentally, the location is the same as the one Cadby's pirates hid the gold in, though the gold is actually scattered in it."

"In it?"

"Again, I shall get to that later. But in another 'trip,' your grandfather retrieved the jewel. We both believed Cadby had died, remember, so when he asked me to take care of it sometime back, I accepted. I found out then that Cadby didn't die—and that your grandfather didn't know either, so I apologize in hinting that he had lied in my letter. On the way of giving it to me, your grandfather…"

"He was ambushed," Hannah finished. "He never had a chance."

"He did make sure, though, that the jewel was lost at sea with him. It is now in the default location, somewhere even Cadby doesn't know."

"I have to go and get it!" Hannah said, jumping up.

"Hannah, be reasonable. It's dangerous."

"It's my job. I have to do it. It's the reason he raised me for."

"That's ridiculous! Your grandfather had many faults, Hannah, but if there's one thing I know for sure of him is that he loved you."

"Maybe he did," Hannah conceded. "But that was just convenient for him. He owed it to my parents to raise me. He needed someone to protect the gem, and I don't think he really thought you'd hold on to it forever. Love was just part of it. This is the real reason."

"Hannah-"

"The book holds the location," Hannah said, convinced. "Please give it to me."

Aunt Beatrice sighed and got up, going to a safe. She took a key from her neck and used it to open the latch. A single book was inside. Reluctantly, she handed it to Hannah. "I hope you know what you are doing, my dear."

"I don't," Hannah admitted. "I don't and I'm scared, but I know I have to do it. Do you know anything about the treasure Grandpa wrote of?"

"No, unless he meant Cadby's gold, which is littered around the-" She hesitated.

"The what?"

"It's the official name for the location," Aunt Beatrice said. "The Pirate Caves. But in all honesty, Hannah, I don't think that treasure is what he meant."

Hannah nodded. "All right. Thank you, Aunt."

"You do know that Cadby will be after you," Beatrice said bluntly. Hannah nodded, determined, but her composure was slipping. She didn't care what happened to her, but what if Jacques and Garin got hurt? What if their ship sunk? She prayed that Masila would be kind enough to grant them a second one.

"Thanks," Hannah said again. "For everything." She smiled at her aunt, wondering if this might not be the last time she saw her, and regretted than she didn't visit more. Even if Beatrice was stuffy.

"One more thing, my dear. Cadby isn't his name anymore. His name is Bloodhook, Captain of the Black Pawkeet."

* * *

"Hannah!" Garin called out to his friend. "Did you find...?" The look on her face was answer enough. She was pale, and her eyes were bigger than they seemed. She walked in rapid footsteps, her gaze somewhere else, in a world of her own. If something could have made her like this….Garin was scared, and he knew that Jacques felt the same way when he saw her.

He dismissed his crew, telling them to enjoy themselves while they were in town. He, Jacques, and Hannah dined in a restaurant near the ocean, where she recounted the whole thing. Her voice was monotone, tired, but he could detect a trace of sadness in it. He knew that she wanted to find family. But not like this.

"You gonna be okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I guess," she muttered. "Would you guys mind sailing me to one more stop?"

"Of course!" they both cried.

"It'll all be okay, Hannah," said Jacques confidently. "Remember, you'll always have us."

For the first time, a smile played on her lips. "And I'll always be grateful for that."

* * *

It would have taken a week for them to decode the map, and then another three weeks to go to the isle near Krawk Island—the place where the jewel was buried. Now they only had one week to go, and it was smooth sailing so far. The crew didn't know what happened, only that Hannah learned something sad, but it was enough for them to do everything they could to amuse her and to keep her in good spirits. She was thankful for that. If Garin and Jacques had to be pirates, at least she was assured that their crew would always remain loyal to them.

Then there was Garin and Jacques themselves, and they had become irreplaceable. Why had she sought out family, when she already had two brothers who loved her and would've done anything to keep her safe? It was silly. But she had a job to do for her Grandpa, the final one that she was willing to succeed. She knew that they were worried about her, though, even when they tried not to show it. Especially when she refused food.

"Come on, Hannah. You have to eat something," Jacques urged. "We'll tell you another story of Masila's." She'd been amused by this queen of thieves, and was always curious about her, though they still wouldn't say anything about her liking someone else other than the leader of the Thieves' Guild. They knew that one story would coax at least a few bites.

"Once," said Jacques happily, "She was hiding two well-known criminals in her temporary home. A few guards came to question her, asking if she had seen them around. She said, 'Yes, they're right underneath my table!' There wasn't any tablecloth, and it was clear no one was there, so they cast her off as crazy. They didn't even check the rest of her house. Only thing is, Masila was hiding them in her basement!"

Hannah grinned and ate a few spoons of the stew. "Got anything else?"

"Tons!" Jacques replied, smiling. Though he had relished Masila's favour, he never thought that he would seriously be thankful that she had supplied him with dozens of stories. Of course, a lot of them had Kanrik, and those cut off a considerable amount of tales. But he had a lot to work with; he didn't have to embellish any of them, which was often the case with Hannah if he wanted to keep her interested. The lady was interesting in her own right, fortunately.

* * *

Masila was amused. She didn't know – never suspected – that Hannah had held her in such a high regard, once upon a time. Jacques and Garin, perhaps, though no doubt they loathe her now. But Hannah? Had Masila not known that she really did do what Jacques had said and related to him the story herself, she would've disbelieved it in an instant. Now she finds out that Hannah had considered hearing about her as a treat, one that she was willing to eat even if she didn't feel like it to earn. It flattered her, really.

For the first time, she began realizing what the old man meant in hearing the different side of the story. And for the first time, she wondered what would have happened if things ended differently.

* * *

"And then…" Garin continued.

"Captain! Captain!" One of the crew members were yelling. "We've got a problem."

Garin stifled his irritation. "What is it now? Is someone else swinging from the mast?"

"No, sir! Another ship is coming closer and closer, heading towards us. It's possible that it's following, or it means to take us on in battle." The man was sweating. "Not likely for any other ships to be this close unless they want to speak or something."

"I see. Thank you." Garin waved the guy away and looked at Jacques. "Well, this is interesting. We never had an attack before."

"You think this is an attack?" Hannah asked fearfully.

"Don't worry. We'll protect you," said Garin cheekily.

"Excuse me? I do not need to be protected!" she said, punching him on the arm playfully. "I'm more worried about you and your crew."

"We can take it," Garin said confidently.

Jacques seemed less sure. "I don't know, Garin. The crew over there might have more experience in raiding than us."

"Isn't this why we're helping Hannah in the first place? Experience?"

Jacques grinned. "I guess. In any rate, this'll be a heck of a lot of fun."

Hannah grabbed both boys by their collars, with both of them protesting loudly. "Look, guys. I don't want you to take unnecessary risks. If we can out-sail the ship-"

"Unlikely," Jacques said.

"Isn't there any way at all?" said Hannah desperately. She did not think of what might happen to her friends if Bloodhook got a hold of them. This is the guy who had turned and killed his crew members, his brother's family, and his own father. A crew of inexperienced pirates would be cake to him.

"We-ell…" Jacques and Garin looked at each other.

"There's the chasm beast," Jacques spoke up first. "It's a monster that dominated the ruins of old Maraqua—you know, the lost city that doesn't exist anymore?" he said when he saw Hannah's confused expression. "It does go up to the surface at some points, and it's known to eat ships whole…but if we could avoid getting eaten, it might be the perfect distraction to Bloodhook's gang. That is, if you're willing to risk it."

"What do you think, Hannah?" Garin asked. "Which do we have a better chance with?"

She could see from their hopeful expressions that they wanted her to pick Bloodhook. No matter what the risk was, she imagined it'd be exhilarating for them to try and brave a feared crew. But they were inexperienced, only getting taught how to raid a few months earlier. On the other hand, they had been sailing ships their whole lives, from when they were toddlers, and Grandpa always said they were exceptional sailors. "The chasm beast," she told them.

They both nodded and got to work. Jacques shouted commands to the crew to get the ship ready as fast as possible while doing some of the work himself. Garin ran up the wheel and began navigating himself, looking firmly to a strait near the Island. She had discussed where the Pirate Caves were with him, and knew that they were right around the bend after where the monster was. They were going to take the safer route, going around the long way, but now that wasn't an option.

Now, she could do nothing but grit her teeth and pray her friends would get her out of this.

The ship was getting closer and closer, the oldest one she had seen by far. She had not laid eyes on the captain of it yet, but she didn't want to. She never wanted to see his face, ever. But she couldn't ignore what he was saying—what she could hear, even if they were still a long way off.

"Surrender yourself, niece!" he called. "Surrender the Tear, or, if you still don't have it, the location. We might even spare your friends!"

The offer was a tempting one. No matter what happened to her, she didn't want Garin and Jacques to get hurt. And for a moment, she pictured herself jumping off to the sea, her friends too far away to dissuade her, and giving herself to her uncle.

No!

She couldn't afford to think like this.

She couldn't run away, like she had when her parents were attacked.

She couldn't stay put, useless, like when her grandpa was killed.

It was time to be brave.

She turned around glared at them. "Oh, go eat a Koi." Amazingly, it was enough to get the whole crew to shut up. It seemed that they had never been insulted so brazenly before. It should do them good, she thought smugly.

Then the ship turned rapidly, and she had to hold on the railings not to be thrown overboard. A shadow came over her. Slowly, she turned around, to see a huge, green monster with a _lot _of tentacles waving to her, as if in greeting. _Hello, there! I'm about to eat you now! _She nearly laughed.

Garin forced the ship to careen as the first tentacle went down to the water, causing a giant tidal wave. His men, instead of relying on the wind like they usually did, went down below to use the oars. Even up on deck he could hear Jacques's frantic orders for them to row, row for their lives. They were going faster than ever before.

Another tentacle tried to grab the ship, but it dodged the beast. Garin was not going to go down easily, if at all. He began using rocks for cover, so the tentacles would them instead of the ship. Very dangerous. Even if he made a slight miscalculation, he could find the whole ship crashed against the rocks, and they would all be easy picking for the monster. But it was the best shot they had.

In any case, they had lost the Black Pawkeet.

"Almost there!" he called out reassuringly to Hannah.

Then the tidal wave came.

A much bigger one, too, since the monster, realizing that it was about to lose its prey, dug _all_ its tentacles in the air and smashed it against the ocean. There was no way they could survive that.

"Garin!" Hannah suddenly said. "Pull back and ride on the top of the wave."

"Are you mad?" he shrieked. "The ship could end up in one of the trees of the island, or smashed against the trunk!"

"Better than it getting sunk!" was her reply.

He groaned and swung the wheel around, hoping the ship would obey him despite the strain of the furious current building up. This was one of the most difficult moves he had ever done, and one he had never attempted. He turned the ship around, directly in front of the wave, and began sailing upwards.

It was mad.

It was impossible.

It was…..

Crazy enough to work.

The wave finally crashed. The damage was done. But the ship and the people were unscathed, landing gently at the beach.

"Wow." Hannah grabbed a starfish out her hair. "You're an excellent sailor, Garin." As soon as she said that, he was met with cheers from his crew and Jacques, all rejoicing that they had such an awesome captain. He grinned, soaking in their praise, but he noticed Hannah's gaze to a nearby cave near the rocks. "Guys…"

"Hannah, if you're thinking about going there alone-"

"I have to go in there alone," she said, her tone pleading. "This is what my grandpa told me to do. I don't want you guys getting hurt."

"But Hannah-"

"You guys have done enough for me already. A few minutes ago was a good example of it." Jacques and Garin looked ready to protest again, so she added, "And besides, you're not just responsible for yourselves any more. You're responsible for the safety of your crew—and I think that you might want to let them rest for a bit."

The two boys turned to see their crew all looking at them with begging eyes.

"Fine," Garin grumbled. "But I expect you to come back up."

Hannah smiled. "See you later, guys."

"See you later," they chorused.

They hoped it would be true.

* * *

Hannah had been in the cave for hours—she imagined that it must be nearing sunset in the outside world. No doubt that Garin and Jacques would be worried, but they wouldn't dare go after her for fear of a scolding. In any case, she hoped that they had enough sense to seek an inn instead of waiting for her practically the whole night. She knew they had a ship they could rest in, but they deserved to be able to sleep properly for once. She knew she didn't.

After the initial wide, stony cavern, the cave had become smaller as she went in deeper inside it. When she had been walking for hours, she had realized her skirt had become muddy, and as her movements became more and more limited, she realized that the cave was little more than a tunnel. She frowned but pressed on. She wasn't going to be daunted by dirt.

What daunted her was that she had no idea where she was. She had the dim light to see by through the cracks on the ceiling. She had her map from the book and some supplies in her pack,. But none of them would help her if she didn't know any of the landmarks the parchment had described. She could have been going in circles for all she knew. And who knows, she thought darkly, she might even have bigger problems to worry about soon.

Though she might call herself paranoid, she couldn't shake the feeling that Bloodhook hadn't followed them after all.

* * *

Garin and Jacques had decided to wait. They told their men that they could retire to the ship or, if they wished, try to find a nearby village to rest in and they would regroup at the nearest harbor. None of them wanted to leave their captain and first mate, but they were all tired—so they decided to make camp at the beach. Now all the two friends could do was wait and hope that Hannah made it out of there alive. But though they were worried about her…they still couldn't help but be bored.

Jacques yawned. "How long has she been in there again?"

"Around four hours," Garin replied.

"A lot of times in our hands, huh? Wish we had Masila here with us to tell some stories."

"If I didn't know better, Jacques, I'd say you had a crush on her."

"Garin!" Jacques punched him in the arm playfully. "No way. She's three years older than me, and waaaay out of my league."

"Sure she is." He stretched. "We still haven't picked a name for our ship yet. Some people are betting we'd call it 'The Scary Hannah.'"

"Oh, she'd love that." Jacques smirked. "I doubt she'd react better to it than Masila did."

"You're right. Maybe we could call her 'The Grand Marie,' after Masila's sister?"

"Uh, no. Masila isn't on good terms with her, remember?"

"How about something with 'Layeela' in it? You know Masila liked you-know-who's sister a lot-"

"Shh!" Even here, it might not be safe to say anything. "No, not that. Definitely not that. We'd be killed for sure." Jacques and Garin frowned, left again to their thoughts of what might be happening to Hannah.

"Dooooooon't worry!" a voice called. "She'll do it! Squawk! She can do it! Squawk! She'll get the treasure! Squawk!"

They both turned to find a black Pawkeet talking to them from a branch. "Well whaddya know, he talks!" said Garin, amused. "You know, those birds are pretty smart. Shame that o'le Bloodhook took the 'Black Pawkeet' already; it sounds cool."

"Well, ships can be named after others," Jacques pointed out, but they both knew that they would never do that to Hannah. This was the ship that had killed her parents and her grandpa. Any ship named after that one was sure to be resented by her, at the very least.

"Squawk!" the pawkeet crowed. "Pirates! Pirates!" Then it flew to the trees.

If not for the pawkeet's warning, they would've been caught for sure. As it was, they barely had enough time to scramble up a tree (a method that Hannah swore always worked) before Bloodhook came in sight. He was a grey Eyrie, large in stature, with one claw replaced with – not a hook, as his name suggested – but a fearsome sword. And suddenly, they weren't disappointed anymore at Hannah's decision in taking on the chasm beast.

This guy was more of a monster than anything they've ever seen.

"Where is she?" he snarled at his men.

"She should be around here, sir," one piped up. "Right over…." They spotted the cave. "There! That's the entrance."

"Thank you, Bertley," Bloodhook said in a sarcastic voice. "We shall follow her, but none of us should lay a finger on her until she retrieves the Tear. Then…we can dispose of her like we did to my dear father." There was a loud cheer, and they surged into the cavern.

When they were gone, Garin and Jacques came out of their hiding place quickly. "Sweet Fyora," Jacques breathed. "What should we do? Do you think we she could go in to warn her?"

Garin's pause was a long one, and when he finally spoke, his voice was tired. "No. We can't risk ourselves or any of our men without the map—what if she came out and one of us were still there? We would have to wait even longer." Then he brightened up. "Even if they did find her, I bet she'd give them a whacking they'd never forget."

This thought cheered them, until they realized that they were even worse off than they began. Pirates were in the cave after Hannah, and there was nothing they could do about it.

Nothing they could do but wait.

* * *

She was crawling on her hands and knees now, the musty air nearly suffocating her. Worse, she was claustrophobic—she hated being cooped up. The cave wasn't so bad. She even kind of liked it, as it hinted of secrets and treasure and stories. But this was awful. The only thing that spurred her to keep moving, to stop her from running back as fast as she could and gulp the clean air, was the thought of the Mermaid's Tear. She had to get it. Failing was not an option.

At last she was let out to a wider cave made of stone. After checking her map, she sighed happily. The most difficult part of the journey was over. Now all she had to do was-

"Where is that blasted girl, anyway?""

Hannah nearly screamed. There was practically no place for her to hide, and there was no question that she direly needed to. Those stinking pirates were after. Again. She ducked near a pile of rocks, keeping close to the shadows as uch as she could. As shedid, she spotted a group of men, with a grey, leering Eyrie leading them on. Bloodhook.

Her uncle.

The guy who killed her parents.

The man who destroyed her grandpa.

The person who attacked her friends and their crew.

How could she be related to someone like that? From his expression, it was obvious that he wouldn't hesitate for one moment to slit her throat, and she dearly wished she had Jacques or Garin to cling to. But she kept quiet, waiting for them to pass. She held her breath, fearful that she might exhale too loudly or something. Hey, she was scared.

Finally, they passed. She breathed out, relieved. That was close. She checked her map one more time for running to a different cave. The sight of a well-worn ladder greeted her, and hesitantly, she began to climb it. It opened up to another cave. Do they have no end? She thought grumpily. She raced along side it for awhile until she came upon a ridge, water rushing to near its sides. She checked her map and frowned.

This can't be right.

In the map, the X was right over where she was. That meant either it was buried under the rock, which was pretty much impossible, or in the underground river. She stared at the water apprehensively. "This is the place," she said softly, to assure herself. Was she actually expected to jump in there? Even her grandpa would make her do that…then she remembered that he had thought her how to swim, perhaps for this very reason. She shrugged and grinned. "You only live once." With that, she tucked the map into her belt pouch and set her pack aside. She jumped.

The moment she touched the water, she froze. She would've stayed frozen, perhaps, doomed to be a stiff and terrified statue in the bottom of the river forever, when she thought of how Garin and Jacques would think it stupid, for a girl like her to be frozen in fear. So she kicked and swam, propelling herself to move forward. The warmth came back as she went along. She kept her eyes open for as long as she couldn't – she didn't want to go stumbling around in the dark – but they were stinging. Just as she was about to close them, she saw a glint in the distance.

She swam upwards one last time to catch her breath, and then dove back down, forcing her eyes to open. She saw it. A locked casket with the crest of the Black Dawn—the name the crew had given themselves after their captain's 'demise.' She swam towards it, ignoring the water pressure that was trying to pull her back. She wasn't about to let a little thing like that keep her from her treasure.

She clasped the casket, but from the moment she touched it she knew it was too heavy to carry upwards. That was fine. She anticipated that. She grabbed the tools which she had tied around her waste and began working to pick the lock. This was another thing Grandpa taught her, although once she had made a face and said that was only for thieves, little knowing that he was once a kind of thief himself. What a family she had! Pirates, fishermen, rich ladies…

The breaking of the padlock jolted her back to the present. Golden coins floated upwards, as they were enchanted to. She grabbed a few of them before they could reach the surface. You could never have too much gold, and she needed every penny she could get. Plus, she wanted to repay her friends, no matter how much they protested.

But the real prize was taking a lot more slowly to bob up. The green jewel, the Mermaid's Tear, swam into view. Hannah gazed at it for a moment, enthralled. She had gone through, her family had gone through, so much just for some gem. But it's teasing twinkles, its magical vibrations as she held it, assured her that it was worth every second. She swam up to the surface again, inhaling deeply, and held up the jewel. The one her whole life led up to getting. Her jewel.

The Mermaid's Tear.

Even in all her happiness in finally getting it, she sensed the reason why it was named so. Like she thought, so many had gone through so much to getting it, not just her family. The jewel mourned every single person who died for it, knowing that it had the power to bring those people back to life. "How many men have lost you?" she asked. She closed her eyes, thinking of her grandpa. "And how many a man has found you, only to lose you again?" Hannah smiled. It felt as alone as she did.

But she wasn't alone, and neither was it. Not anymore.

She wrapped the jewel carefully in the silk she had gotten from her Aunt Bea. "Well, I'm not going to lose you. I promise."

She paused like that for a long moment, as if she expected the jewel to answer. She chuckled quietly to herself and peered around the cave. "Now, all I have to do is to find a way out." She picked which side she thought she had left her pack and started swimming towards it. A few minutes later, the pack was safe on her back, but the jewel was still nestled in her hands. After waiting so long and sacrificing so much, she couldn't bear to part with it. She sighed inwardly, knowing she would have to strap it to her anyway when she got to the muddy tunnel, but for now she could keep it with her. After checking her supplies, she turned to find her way back.

Then she blinked, looking around her once again. "I know this place," she whispered, glancing at her map. "But everything's changed."

A flash of light blinded her, and she scrambled backwards, one hand shielding her face, one protecting the jewel behind her back in a vain hope that the pirates haven't seen it. Laughter rang out from all corners. She lowered her hand and finally came face to face with her nemesis. Bloodhook.

Although she had briefly seen him as he made his way through the small cave earlier, she didn't fully appreciate how horrifying he truly looked. He looked…well, as if he rose from the dead. Scars adorned his face, making every feature of his seem crooked. His right lid was swelled shut. A pirate's cap was worn cockily on his head. Despite all that, what really made Hannah fear him was his eye. It was the only thing not unpleasant about him, warm and brown and just a little wider than normal. Just like Grandpa's.

And they looked at her with iciness and hate.

She shivered, reminding herself that it was _not _her grandpa looking at her. As though he sensed her discomfort, Bloodhook laughed. "Hello, Hannah dear." That voice chilled her to the bone. Even after all this time, she recognized it, from when she was eight and it was making her father demands that he could never give into. "What are you doing here?"

She scowled at his question. As if he already didn't know! She probably would've told him to go eat a Koi again, if not for the three pirates with bows trained at her. "Hello, Uncle Bloodhook," she said through gritted teeth. "You already know what I'm here for."

He grinned at her. "The Mermaids' Tear." He nodded staring at her hands with greed. "That little bauble is mine."

That was too much for her. "It was my grandfather's!" she yelled at him. "You stole it from him, just before you…." She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence.

"That's right," he confirmed, as if proud of the deed. He drew his sword. "And when I take it from you, I'm gonna do the very same thing."

He swiped at her. But she was too fast—Grandpa had prepared her for this too, albeit in a more subtle and more fun way, when he encouraged her to play sword-fighting with Garin and Jacques. She dodged him easy, stumbled back a few steps, and ran. Arrows rushed passed her, missing by only a few centimeters. "Get her, you fools!" she heard her uncle cry out. "Or you'll be all hanging from the mizzenmast!"

She ran through random caves, backing up to lose the pirates, crouching through dark tunnels, clambering up particularly high ones. Unfortunately, they had the senses of hunters, and easily followed her. The only advantage she had was her speed—they were falling behind, though who knew when they would catch up? She had also lost herself, too. She knew that when she had the time to stop her catch her breath, she wouldn't be able to find herself on the map; it only detailed instructions on how to get to the Tear. She was running for her life and was hopelessly lost.

Not to mention pretty distracted by the treasures she was passing.

Finally, she climbed upwards to a small chamber loaded with boxes and crates—but with no other exit. She was at a dead end. She couldn't run anymore. She slumped near a wall, panting and sweating heavily. She had failed. "I'm sorry, Grandpa," she whispered. Dully, she scanned the room where she was, simply waiting for the pirates to come and get her. She heard their voices now, and it won't be long.

I can still put up a fight, she nudged herself. She took a closer look at the boxes to see if it had any weapons she could use, even though she knew it was hopeless. That's when she read the sign—Caution: Black Powder.

A slow smile spread on Hannah's face. She glanced downwards; the pirates were right below her, and only needed to climb up. She looked at the crate of black powder again. "Always carry flint and steel," she said, smirking. Quickly, she lit the fuse. "Thanks, Grandpa." With that, she pushed it off the chamber, right to the very surprised pirates.

She might get out of here yet.

* * *

"What's taking her so long?" Garin complained, pacing. It was nightfall, now, and he knew that most of his men were sleeping at the boat. Jacques had urged him to get some rest, too, but neither one of them wanted to go without Hannah. They would wait till morning if they had to. Just as he was about Jacques that he changed his mind and that he was going to go after her, he heard a shriek.

"What are you boys still doing here?" Hannah said angrily.

He couldn't help but grin. "Waiting for you."

"You should've gone back to the ship! Now-" She stopped herself. "We have to go! There's no time to waste."

"What are you talking about? And how come you didn't come out this way-"

"I found another exit," she said impatiently. "The pirates were….distracted, so I ran away and found another way to the surface. But we have to go before the bomb lights up!"

"Huh?"

"Come on!" She grabbed hold of them by the scruff of their collars, gripping them tightly.

"Ow…ow…ow…" They moaned as she dragged them across stones and wood and mud.

"Shut your mouth," she instructed. "Less dirt can get into them" They shut up. She practically hauled them all the way back to their ship and threw them on deck. "We have to go! Now!"

"I'll wake the crew," Jacques said.

Wordlessly, Garin took his place on the navigation wheel. Soon, the crew was back to working again, though they looked a little sluggish. They worked on the sails and tied them the best as they can, but they were barely awake yet. "MOVE!" Hannah screamed. "A BOMB'S GONNA BLOW UP THE ISLAND!"

That got their attention. They began working a lot faster. Finally, they hauled the anchor aboard and took off.

BOOM!

They all turned to find the island on fire. Mud slides began. Rocks collided. The explosion that the bombs had caused was huge. "Hannah?" Jacques said cautiously. "How many bombs exactly did you light?"

"All of them," she replied. "I didn't want to take any chances." There was no way anyone could survive that. Her uncle was dead, as it should've been. And as for the Mermaid's Tear…she took it out of her pack. It still shined its sad, beautiful glow. She breathed out. They were safe.

* * *

"It's possible that there's still a bit of treasure there," Jacques told Hannah after she described the caves to him. "It must've been deep underground, though if the air and light could reach it now is another matter. I'm definitely not going ever going to go down there."

"Scared?" she teased.

He gave her a look. "It's miles underground. I'm sticking to the open seas, thank you very much."

"You didn't answer my question," she sang. He rolled his eyes, and she jostled him. It had been two weeks since the Pirate Caves incident, and they were nearly back to Krawk Island. She still didn't know where she was going to stay, as she doubted the Golden Dubloon would take her back in. Garin and Jacques assured her that their mothers would love to have her around, especially after she tells them that she saved them from trouble. Admittedly, after dragging them into it, but she still saved them.

But she didn't want to take charity from them again. They had done enough. She still even felt guilty about wasting a lot of their time, even after she insisted on giving them the coins that she grabbed from the chest.

"It doesn't need answering," Jacques answered.

"I'll go back at some point," she said. "I'd love to get some more gold. Don't worry, I'll take another ship," she said as she saw his panicked expression.

"Aw, but we'd love that, wouldn't we?" Garin piped up as he came towards them. "Land ho, guys."

"There already?" Hannah asked. He nodded.

"And to think," Garin said exasperatedly. "We still haven't gotten a name for our ship."

"I do," Hannah said. "Would you guys mind doing me another favor?"

"Does this involve any more undead sailors and chasm bests?" Jacques asked warily.

"No."

"We're in!"

She smiled. "I'd like you to call the ship the Black Pawkeet. Their jaws dropped. "What? It's a decent name. Pawkeets are very intelligent creatures."

"You're telling us," Garin muttered.

"And besides," she continued, "That ship had been haunting my nightmares. It'd be nice for you two to redeem it."

"Plus, since the name's already well-known, people will already be scared when we come to raid them!" said Jacques, smirking.

"It's a deal," Garin said happily. He called for the attention of the crew, who all lined up. Then he grabbed a bottle of brandy from a nearby cooler. "Would you do the answers, sis?"

She grinned and smashed the bottle on the side of the ship. "I hereby christen you, The Black Pawkeet!"

The crew cheered. Then Hannah realized that the cheering was too loud for the crew to be doing it alone. She glanced at the docks. Her jaw dropped. It seemed that the whole island were there, applauding her. "Hannah! Hannah!" a little girl called over the railings. "I heard about the Pirate caves!"

"I heard about the Chasm beast," an old man muttered. "Took 'im on meself in my day, but I never thought a girl could best it. Good work!"

"You did brilliantly, love!"

"Splendid, girl, splendid!"

"Your grandpa would be proud of you!"

"Tell us how you did it, Hannah! Please?"

Hannah smiled, an idea popping into her head. She might be able to stay at the Golden Dubloon, after all.

* * *

It was another slow day at the boarding house. The Ruki had hired a Lupe to tend the drinks for him, but unfortunately, the Lupe was a lot more hostile than Hannah and had none of her charm. The slow puddle of customers they had when she left quickly trickled out. Bad enough hearing tales about her from local sailors who swore they spotted her on some ship….now he had to do the best that he could without her.

Then he heard the noise. A huge crowd was coming, talking to each other, laughing, teasing. Is there some sort of a parade? He thought faintly. But no. They entered his shop. _His _shop. Some were already sitting at tables. His heart leapt…and then he realized who was leading them.

"Miss me?" Hannah said cheekily. She looked a lot better than she did in a long time. Her eyes lit up, and her smile came easily. Perhaps running around Neopia had done her some good; but he was sure it didn't dampen her annoying confidence.

"I told you never to come back here!" he hissed.

"But that was before I brought the customers," she said innocently. "I'm supposed to tell them about my adventures in the Pirate Caves. But if you want me to go to the restaurant at the hub, I'm sure these fine people wouldn't mind following me again."

He scowled. "What do you want?"

"My old job," she said sweetly.

"Why do you even want to come back here, anyway?" he snapped. "I made this place hell for you."

"True," she said. "But it was only for a few months. I had a happy eight years here, and I'm not intending to give that up. If I can have my old job back, I'm pretty sure that more and more people will come." She grinned slyly. "Though of course, I'm going to have to take off once and a while. Some were asking me if I could retrieve some treasure for them, and I have no problems about that…but I want to have my home back again. So, what do you say?"

"Fine," he grumbled. "You can start by giving everybody their drinks." But secretly, he was pleased. If getting more customers means putting up with that girl, he'd bear it. She's not that bad company.

When everybody was served they all raised their glasses. "To Hannah the Brave!" they called out.

She smiled. Hannah the Brave.

She liked the sound of that.

* * *

The old man finished, waiting patiently for the tale to sink in. Masila's face was a conflict of emotions—impressed, amused, and just a touch sad for the girl. She had the key to bringing her grandpa back, but she didn't. She knew he wouldn't want it. Masila could relate to that. To think that Hannah – the person dancing on tables! – should have such hidden depths…it was a lot to get used to. Maybe they weren't that different.

That didn't keep her from wanting revenge.

Still, a nagging voice in her head told her than maybe Hannah didn't deserve it. Masila frowned thoughtfully. "That's a lot to go through," she mused, "For a grandpa that didn't even love her."

"But he did love her," the old man said indignantly, taken aback that that was what Masila had taken from the story. "He loved her so much, even if it didn't start that way. He loved her enough to trade his place in Heaven for a while to go back and save her life." He looked at her.

But Masila wasn't paying attention; she was wrapped up in her own thoughts. Now that she had time to assess what happened, it occurred to her that Hannah didn't actually do anything, at least to her. She was more of a bystander of what was happening in the Thieves' Guild. She certainly didn't mean to get wrapped up in all of that. In fact, she hadn't even met Masila yet, not properly. They probably never would, now, and if they did, they'd meet as enemies. But that was fine. They didn't have to fight right now. Fyora knows that the girl already has had enough problems, and Masila didn't want to add more, if she could help it. She'd save her revenge for the people who _really _deserved it.

Satisfied with her decision, she turned to thank the old man for the tale.

But he was gone.

* * *

**So, did you like it? Tell me what you thought. **

**A few things here are actually from true history. Replace the story Jacques told about Masila with a brave lady, the criminals as Jews, and the guards as Nazis.** **Bonus points to people either actually knowing or looking up who Edward Thatch really is! ;) **

**I do have a few plans on what will happen next. Some of this will probably crop up in HJ at one point, though much, much later. **


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